Treasures
by Aranel Took
Summary: Takes place before Chapter 56 of The Course of Love. You really need to have read that first.


Disclaimer: Lord of the Rings belongs to JRR Tolkien. I'm just borrowing it for a while.

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Treasures**

Rosie pushed open the door to the room and let her eyes adjust to the dim light. She made her way over to the window and pulled open the dusty curtain. Motes swirled in the daylight that streamed through the window, the room suddenly bathed with light. They usually kept the curtain drawn, to protect the contents of the room from being faded by the sun.

Mister Frodo's study was much as he had left it all those years ago. Sam had used it for some writing now and then in the early years of their marriage, but his gardening and the children had given him less and less time for such things. He only touched the desk and it's contents when he was in here, though. The rest of the room remained untouched, except by Rosie's own hand.

She looked over the treasures and mathoms that cluttered the shelves. Mister Frodo may have left the Red Book to Sam, but he'd left the rest of his personal possessions to her. And when she'd shyly refused his more than generous gift-what would she do with all that wealth-he'd just given her a sly smile and left them instead to Elanor and any other future children she and Sam would have.

She pursed her lips at the memory. Mister Frodo knew very well she wouldn't refuse a gift for Elanor. So she'd given in and his blue eyes had twinkled with a merriment she didn't often see in those last weeks. And he'd taken her hand and pulled her out of his study and then, to her embarassment, had sat her down and insisted on making the tea.

Her gaze wandered over the treasures in the room. Goldi was getting married in a week and it was time she received her gifts from "Uncle Frodo".

Elanor had received what Rosie had figured was the most valuable gift, a box of silverware that had obviously been an heirloom for the Baggins. Elanor was the oldest and she'd actually known Mister Frodo, as much as a baby can know someone. And Mister Frodo had named her, too. So the silverware had gone to Elanor, which had turned out to be a wise choice, considering Elanor's husband was now the Warden and was the most important hobbit in the western Shire and they often had to entertain guests.

Actually, all three of her oldest daughters would now be married to important hobbits. She gave a grin. Who would have thought that plain Rosie Cotton would someday be grandmother to the future Thain and Master?

She had discussed Frodo's gift with Sam, and decided to give him a set of books on plants that Bilbo had translated during his time with the elves. Frodo had been overwhelmed by the gift, opening the first volume with awe and starting to read. Then Emerald had laughed and gave a shy blush and told him he'd better leave the books at Bag End until after the honeymoon. Rosie giggled at the memory of her poor son's embarassed face.

To Rose-her dear Rose who had been through so much before she'd followed her heart to Theo-she'd given a jewelry box, a cherry wood box with a lid carved with a scene from the Brandywine River, containing a few rings and necklaces that had belonged to Mister Frodo's mother, Primula. Rosie thought it appropriate that the treasures should make their way back to Brandy Hall.

Mer had received a painting of the Shire. A note scrawled on the back of the canvas indicated it had been painted by Mister Bilbo's great-grandfather (and Mister Frodo's great-great-grandfather) Balbo Baggins. A simple scene of green fields and cozy holes. She wanted to give Mer something to remember the Shire, for when he and Hyacinth moved out to Westmarch. She knew her son had been anxious about leaving home and family and friends. But he couldn't pass up the opportunity the new lands were offering. Many a young hobbit was making the move to Westmarch these days.

Pip... Well, Pip was taking his time and still hadn't settled on a lass, although she suspected that Posy Smallburrow might be close to convincing him to settle down.

Which brought her to Goldi. Rosie poked around the shelves and drawers, trying to find the appropriate gift for her third daughter. Just like Rose, Goldi really wouldn't need anything practical for her new home. Something decorative then? Goldi was difficult, though, because she'd never really been interested in pretty or homey things. She'd always prefered to be out chasing after her brothers. Or Fari.

Rosie sighed. She had to admit that the pregnancy hadn't surprised her all that much, although she'd never tell Sam that. She knew Fari adored Goldi, and wouldn't intentionally do anything to hurt her, but Rosie had worried that Fari might not understand the difference between love and sex. As much as she loved them, she had to say that Pippin and Ivy hadn't set the best example for Fari.

She'd talked to Goldi about it, but out of all her daughters she knew that Goldi would be the most likely to 'try things'. And she'd proven that by sneaking out to meet Fari. And then running away with him.

But that was water under the bridge. Next week Goldi would be married and not long after that she'd be a mother. And Rosie knew for certain that Goldi and Fari were in love and that was all that mattered really.

She opened a cupboard at the bottom of the bookcase and underneath some papers she found a small box. She didn't remember opening that one before. She took out the plain, pine box, opened it, and gave a little gasp. Inside, wrapped in linen, was a silver baby rattle. She took it out and lightly shook it to hear the tinkle of metal beads inside. She smiled and imagined a very tiny Frodo-or perhaps it was Bilbo-grasping the rattle in a pudgy fist. She set the box on the desk and stood up. That was a lucky find! But they needed a bit more to go with it. She looked around the bookshelf and then noticed a bit of wood poking out from the very top. She smiled and stood up on tiptoe to reach it.

She pulled down two ornately carved wooden picture frames. Both were empty. They had once hung in Mister Frodo's room, containing the portraits of his parents. Frodo had taken the pictures with him, but had left the frames behind. Fari and Goldi could certainly use these. Most gentlefolk had their portraits done for their wedding, and the future Thain and his wife would most certainly be having it done.

She gathered up the frames and the little box, then went to shut the curtain until the next time she needed a gift from Uncle Frodo. She took the gifts to the parlor and set them on the table by the window. She'd wrap them later. But first, she'd make herself some tea.

She sat at the kitchen table with her tea and thought back to that day when Mister Frodo had passed his treasures on to the children.

"But Rosie," he'd said, reaching out to touch her arm. "I do want to give something to you as well. Something special to thank you for all you've done for me."

"Oh, Mister Frodo," she'd said, setting down her tea cup. She'd reached over to lay her hand over his, over the hand that was missing a finger. "You've already given me something special. The greatest treasure you could give me. You brought my Sam home to me."


End file.
